


Of Emotions and Fencing Lessons

by MissAbominable



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Smut, more humanly, the holmes brothers are slightly out of character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5822830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAbominable/pseuds/MissAbominable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Ahh…uhmmm'<br/>The view that greeted him rooted him to the spot. The white uniforms for their fencing practice were laying haphazardly on the floor. Sherlock was laying on the sofa in the corner of the room. Though Mycroft could barely see him from the side as uncle Rudy was all over him. They were entangled in such a way that it seemed to be a mass of naked limbs. Sherlock was on his back, his head thrown back, uncle Rudy nipping at his neck, his legs spread wide and uncle Rudy's back between them. He was thrusting into Sherlock. Into Sherlock!! Sherlock cried out again, ‘Please, Uncle Rudy, please’.</p>
<p>[Underage Sherlock, Uni going Mycroft. This fic is written on the prompt 'How very Like uncle Rudy, although, cross-dressing would have been an wiser path for you.' (s3e3) So, I brought uncle Rudy into character.<br/>I suck at summary.<br/>This is my first fic. Go easy, enjoy, leave kudos and please please comment :*]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock is 15, Mycroft 22 and Uncle Rudy 40-ish.

Mycroft is obsessed with his younger brother. For quite some time now, actually. What with him being the smart one who thinks of caring as a serious disadvantage and everything, he can't just take his eyes off of Sherlock, who is just 15 now. The way Sherlock's fingers move when he plays violin, the way he scoffs when irritated, not to mention his skinny little ass when he…well, better not think about that now, should he?

For what is worse, Sherlock doesn’t seem to be oblivious of this fact. Mycroft has noticed the way Sherlock looks at him, measures him should be a better suited word. It seems he quite enjoys elder brother’s agitation, though Mycroft is never quite sure if Sherlock understands the meaning of it all. He has never shown any special attraction to anyone, well, anyone except Redbeard, but then, Redbeard is not human; so it can be safely said that he is not into anyone, man or woman. But then, there comes those quick glances, or those long observatory looks Sherlock gives him when Mycroft thinks that Sherlock thinks he is not paying attention. So, you never know actually.  
However, the small vacation is almost over. Mycroft would be returning to Oxford in two days. His monotonous visit to the family mansion were mostly bearable at other times with his inquisitive younger brother’s ever present queries and sometimes playing ‘deduction’, Sherlock’s most favorite game, when their parent's friends or relatives were present at the manor for some family occasion.

Speaking of which, uncle Rudy is present in the manor at the moment. He's been in the house for quite some time now. He plans on buying a farm nearby and is staying in the house for the time being. Their parents are quite happy at his presence. With Mycroft being away and Sherlock being ‘difficult' their parents are somewhat relieved by the lively presence of him. Even Sherlock happens to like him. Which is why instead of deducing the hell out of uncle Rudy, he is taking fencing lessons from him. Which brings a slight pang of jealousy in Mycroft. They were one of a kind, the two of them; and now it seems it's somewhat faded, if not totally gone, and then there are the looks Sherlock gives him, which he doesn’t properly understand, that agitates him so much. Sometimes Mycroft wishes if he could just get inside Sherlock’s head and read the thoughts just as he reads others. But Sherlock is of his own kind, and has been able to cover his thoughts if he wants.

Well, better not be too much entangled in all these clumsy thoughts. Mycroft thought a walk to the back garden would clear his head. Mummy and Daddy are in the drawing room, Mrs. Willow in the kitchen and Sherlock and uncle Rudy in the back hall practicing fencing. The mansion is quiet at the time, any place would have been fine, but Mycroft has a special liking for the back garden, which has something to do with all the time he and Sherlock passed there together before he went to Oxford.  
He was coming downstairs with all those memories coming back, before he came back for the first vacation and found a sarcastic Sherlock busy with his beehives. How things went so south so soon he couldn’t fathom even with his hell of a brilliant mind. It’s not that Sherlock was unhappy with him leaving for the uni, on the contrary, he was quite excited with all these questions..

‘Ahh…uhmmm'

Sherlock’s voice rooted him to the spot. Didn't realize when he came past the back hall. It was more like a cry. Was Sherlock hurt? It didn’t sound like he was hurt, it sounded like…Mycroft headed quickly for the door and opened it thriftily. The view that greeted him rooted him to the spot. The white uniforms for their fencing practice were laying haphazardly on the floor. Sherlock was laying on the sofa in the corner of the room. Though Mycroft could barely see him from the side as uncle Rudy was all over him. They were entangled in such a way that it seemed to be a mass of naked limbs. Sherlock was on his back, his head thrown back, uncle Rudy nipping at his neck, his legs spread wide and uncle Rudy's back between them. He was thrusting into Sherlock. Into Sherlock!! Sherlock cried out again, ‘Please, Uncle Rudy, please’ Sherlock’s voice brought Mycroft’s senses back again and as he was opening the door further to enter and scream simultaneously, another view held him where he was. Sherlock reached for Uncle Rudy's head and brought their lips together for an engulfing kiss.

Mycroft just stood there, just stood there and watched this almost surreal phenomena happening. Sherlock broke the kiss and said in a low voice, ‘Harder, please'. A small chuckle escaped his companion’s mouth as he disentangled himself from Sherlock only to take his legs over his shoulders and re position himself. Sherlock let out a small huff as he was re-penetrated in one go. Uncle Rudy caressed his legs in comfort and to give some time to adjust.Then he started fucking Mycroft's younger brother, the most precious person in Mycroft's life, with abandon. Sherlock cried out softly with each thrust, he was definitely being hit in the right spot. He threw his head back again, letting uncle Rudy do whatever he pleased. Uncle Rudy let out soft moans with his thrusts and just like that they were both submerged into the moment. 

Mycroft didn’t know what to say or do. For the first time in his life, he was completely dumbfounded. It was overwhelming seeing Sherlock like that. Even knowing this is wrong, he couldn’t take his eyes off of his brother’s form. So pliant, so given into the moment, and what hurt most, it was all for someone else. How many times Mycroft has thought about this moment in the last one year, thinking of Sherlock,thinking of being inside Sherlock. Being awake night after night debating with himself how wrong his thoughts were, how filthy! And even then, amusingly, how right it felt! All of that coming to an endright before his eyes, a silent all engulfing rage came over him. His fists clenched on their own accord as he saw Sherlock coming, his member untouched, only from the thrusts. Uncle Rudy thrusted into Sherlock’s limp body one last time and then he was coming too, slumping over Sherlock, kissing him softly.

Mycroft closed the door silently and headed for the back garden blindly, his head full of rage and his eyes…well, he was a man of sentiment, sometimes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -‘Don’t you already know the answer?’
> 
>    
> -‘I am not certain that I do.’
> 
>    
> Sherlock took a few quick steps towards him and placed his lips on Mycroft's for just a fraction of a moment.
> 
>    
> .............................................................
> 
>    
> Mycroft is getting there. After all, he has been the smarter one except for the last few days.

Uncle Rudy's lean but muscular form hovered over Sherlock’s beautiful one. Long fingers entangled in his nephew’s dark curly hair. He was riding Sherlock like riding horseback…

Mycroft tried to clear his head as the memories of this evening kept coming back vividly. He was lying on his bed. It’s past midnight now. Dinner was awkward to say the least. He couldn’t just look at Sherlock or his uncle and not think about the previous incident. Both of them seemed normal. Sherlock was a bit more silent than usual and looked at Mycroft a few times. It seemed like Sherlock was reading him. Like he knew what was going on with Mycroft. Mycroft tried to avoid eye contact with him as best as he could. Had the situation been different, had he not been busy covering his own emotions, he would have given Sherlock a good brotherly talk, about this unhealthy relationship and its possible consequences. But he was guilty of the same intention if not the act. And Sherlock was always more matured than his age. No one was ever able to do anything he did not want to.Mycroft was sure his speech would have been most unwelcome. Moreover, Mycroft felt a sensation of defeat even though there was no battle.

Mycroft didn’t sleep at all. He tossed around his bed and got up with the first sunlight flooding through his room. He went downstairs to walk through the garden. After a few minutes of wandering he was startled by a familiar voice.

-‘I knew I’d find you here.’

It was the last person he wanted to encounter right now.

-‘Sherlock? What are you doing here this early?’

-‘Surprised, are we?’

Sherlock replied with a small smirk, even though his ever present sarcasm was surprisingly unavailable.

-‘Well, for someone who never wakes up early without mummy screaming…’

-‘I thought after yesterday evening a little chat was inevitable. Wondering why that didn't happen from your end.’

Mycroft was caught off guard at this plain statement. He was searching for words when Sherlock spoke again.

-‘How long?’

-‘How long what?’

-‘Oh, please, I am not blind, Mycroft. The way you look at me? Not for long, I am certain.’

-‘What if I reciprocate that question?’

-‘About you or about uncle Rudy?’

Mycroft looked at Sherlock, puzzled. His younger brother raised an eyebrow in response.

-‘And everyone thought you were the smarter one. By the way, about uncle Rudy, not as long as you think.’

Sherlock started heading back to the mansion. Mycroft raised his voice to reach him,

-‘What about me? And how did you know I knew?’

Sherlock looked back.

-‘I saw you leaving the hall last evening. And even if I didn't, your awkwardness at dinner said a lot.’

-‘Ok. But that didn’t answer my first question.’

Sherlock looked at Mycroft's eyes as if searching for something. Those beautiful green eyes held certain grimness within them. He looked so beautiful. His always disheveled hair was in even messier state, the overlarge silk gown was flowing a bit in the morning air. Somehow he looked even more vulnerable than he looked beneath uncle Rudy, completely under his mercy. He whispered at Mycroft,

-‘Don’t you already know the answer?’

-‘I am not certain that I do.’

Sherlock took a few quick steps towards him and placed his lips on Mycroft's for just a fraction of a moment.

And then he was gone inside the house leaving hisdumbfounded elder brother behind.

The number of occasions his younger brother has left him stunned in the last few hours have been outrageous. But all Mycroft could see now was a light at the end of the tunnel. Everything made a little more sense now. Sherlock’s glances at least. As impossible this seemed even a few moments ago, his feelings were, indeed reciprocated. A sudden feeling of joy came over Mycroft. But this doesn’t explain Sherlock’s caustic behavior in the past few years and this certainly doesn’t explain uncle Rudy.

But, Mycroft is getting there. After all, he has been the smarter one except for the last few days.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock opened his eyes on the next thrust and pulled Mycroft's head down onto him. Mycroft was anticipating a kiss but instead his baby brother whispered into his ear,
> 
> -‘Do you know how I always imagined this?’
> 
> -Mycroft could only manage a ‘Hmmnf..’
> 
> -‘I always imagined being lying down helplessly as my elder brother fucked the life out of me.’
> 
> There was no holding back after this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. Enjoy :)

After dinner Mycroft knocked on Sherlock's bedroom door. Others are chatting on the living room downstairs. It will be nice to talk to him alone and clear things up. 

-‘Come in.’

Mycroft entered and stood beside Sherlock’s bed. He was reading something, a chemistry book and scribbling on the side of a page of the book.

-‘I thought we should have that ‘talk' before I leave tomorrow.’

-‘O…K.’

Sherlock said in in a questioning voice. He put the book down on the side table.

Mycroft sat downon the bed casually. He is finally putting the puzzles together. As he is doing so, he has been getting his confident usual self back too. He has never liked puzzles, at least not until he solves them. He is solving this one too, with some answers or, more correctly, assurances from Sherlock.

-‘I see your fencing lessons were off today.’

-‘Is that what you came to talk about? After this morning?’ 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

-‘That, and other things.’ Mycroft looked directly intoSherlock’s eyes.

Sherlock kept his gaze on Mycroft. He is listening.

-‘You called it off.’

It was not a question.

-‘Yes.’

-‘You are not interested in him any more.’

-‘Well, fencing lessons were finished a while ago. We were only practicing lately.’

-‘In more than one way.’

Sherlock smirked.

-‘He is not altogether boring, you know. He has his specialties. Just not my type. Moreover, he is moving in a couple of days. He got that farm he was looking for. You'd have known if you paid attention. You were being sloppy these few days. So we both called it off. After all, this was a casual thing for both of us.’

Sherlock was not talking about fencing anymore.

-‘Also, he was only a substitute. Why'd you bother about him if you have a chance to get the original?’

Sherlock just eyed him.

-‘Uncle Rudy has red hair, back combed, blue eyes, thin lips. Long lean body, about my height. Has a good sense of clothing, prefers four piece suits and immaculate appearance. Reminds you of someone?’

Sherlock’s eyes gleamed. Mycroft continued,

-‘He is more muscular than me, though; and not to mention about intellect…’

Sherlock scoffed.

-‘You are getting back to your previous self, I see.’

Mycroft doesn’t need to reply to that, does he?

-‘How long, Sherlock?’

-‘I guess you owe me that answer first.’

-‘A year.’

-‘After the ball dance last year?’

He doesn’t need to answer to that either. Maybe the feelings were there before, somewhere in his mind palace, covertly. They all came to life last year in this grand party their parents arranged on their 25th anniversary. Sherlock wore a navy blue suit jacket over a maroon silk shirt with black dress pants and black shoes. His hair looked messier still, but in a good way, thanks to the hair products and Mummy's supervision. He stole the limelight from their parents as everyone was gazing at him, the lanky kid with disheveled hair, worn pajama, t-shirt and bare feet had suddenly become the charming prince. A lot of women and girls asked him for dance and oh, he danced so, so gracefully! Some men were also checking him out with the corner of their eyes. Mycroft was ‘lightning struck’. He always loved his brother. He always knew how awfully beautiful he was. But he never saw him more than as a child, more than his baby brother. Seeing him that night, ignited this ever growing lust inside him that could not be sated.

-‘You loved me longer than that.You just didn’t know that.’

-‘What does that even mean?’

-‘It's your turn to deduce.’

-‘About your behavior these last few years, it started after me leaving for uni. Or, more accurately, when I came back on my first vacation.’

-‘Good. Go on.’

-‘I was in my first serious relationship. Erica.’

-‘I don’t remember her name. Not important.’

-‘But you remember my first boyfriend’s name. You mentioned him once after our breakup.’

-‘You are interested in men too. Important.’

-‘You never quite got over me. But I being your brother made it really difficult. You could not tell me about your feelings so you tried to hide them. And you tried to push me far away from yourself…. But to no avail. The more hurt you were, the more caustic your words became.’

-‘Nicely put, My.’

-‘When did we start caring about nicety?’

Sherlock smiled at this. A genuine smile. He looks unearthly when he does that. And yet he is so ignorant about this!

-‘You knew you couldn’t get me. So you went for the next closest thing. Not purely consciously, I believe. You knew why, but denied to state that to yourself consciously. But then I came home this year, and you were observing me. You found out the feelings were reciprocated.’

Mycroft paused. Then asked,

-‘Tell me what I missed. About my feelings, you were saying? I had them before?’ 

-‘All your partners- they are all brunet.’

Mycroft gaped at this revelation. 

-‘So, we were both after replicas?’

-‘Yes, we were. After all, we are one of a kind. There’s no wonder our actions would be similar under similar situations.’

-‘Finally, Sherlock, answer me, how long?’

-‘Always.’

-‘Always?!’

Sherlock nodded.

-‘Yes. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t love you, didn’t want you to be more to me’.

They looked into each other's eyes for a long time. Mycroft moved closer to Sherlock after a while. Sherlock put his head on Mycroft's shoulder. They just lay there silently. Mycroft could smell Sherlock. Posh shampoo, body wash and something entirely unique, Sherlock’s own smell. They’ve not been this close for a long while.  
Sherlock took his fingers on his own and caressed with feather light strokes. After a while he spoke, 

-‘You are leaving tomorrow.’

-‘Yes. For four months at least, I will be back in semester break.’

-‘That’s a long time.’

Sherlock pouted.

-‘Yes. But…’

He looked at Sherlock intensely.

-‘I am here now. So, why don’t we make it worthwhile while I am here?’

Sherlock blushed. Then asked in a shy voice,

-‘Will you make love to me tonight?’

-‘Whatever you want, Sherlock. Just ask for it.’

With that Mycroft brought their mouths together. The kiss was tentative, just brush of lips against soft plush lips. Both savoring it, feeling the closeness of the other. After awhile Mycroft pushed his tongue gently into Sherlock’s lips, Sherlock opening up immediately, melting into the sensation. Mycroft moaned into the kiss. Sherlock placed a hand in Mycroft's hair and rugged him downwards onto him, himself lying on the bed on his back. Mycroft placed himself above Sherlock, his legs in between Sherlock’s, neither of them breaking the kiss. He could feel Sherlock’s arousal against his own over both of their clothing. He rubbed himself onto Sherlock's. Sherlock groaned and finally broke the kiss, both panting. Mycroft pushed his hands beneath his brother’s t-shirt, touching everywhere on that smooth translucent skin. He pushed the fabric over Sherlock’s head and out of the bed. Something primitive was raising within him, an urge to claim Sherlock, to make him his entirely.

Their clothes were gone in a few seconds making a haphazard pile on the floor. They were kissing, touching, rutting into each other anywhere and everywhere. Mycroft gave a hard thrust against Sherlock’s body when Sherlock squealed,

‘My, please, I want you inside me. I'm not going to last long in this manner.’

Mycroft replied, 

-‘Drawer?’ 

-‘Yeah.’

Mycroft reached out andtook out the bottle of lube and a condom. He asked,

-‘You have longed for this for a long time. Tell me what you want. Tell me how you imagined this happening. Tell me each detail.’

-‘I want you to fuck me ruthlessly. From front. And no condom, please. I want to feel you inside me with no barrier between us. I've had enough of that between us lately.’

-‘So have I, Sherlock, so have I.’

Mycroft coated his fingers with more than enough lube. He bent down and placed a kiss on the mop of curls on Sherlock’s head. Then on his forehead, lips, chest, navel, another mop of curls over his member, then on Sherlock’s penis and finally pushing his thighs slightly apart, on his little hole. He placed a few more kisses there while caressing Sherlock’s thighs with his palms. Sherlock was moving his hands up and down over Mycroft’s chest, back, neck, hair. When Mycroft lubed his finger again and started to move it in a circular motion, he closed his eyes enjoying the sensation. Mycroft slowly pushed his middle finger inside, just a bit, moving it up and down and around very slowly. Soon Sherlock was relaxing and he entered his finger deeper bit by bit, taking his time. After he was satisfied that Sherlock was ready enough, he put another finger along. After a few thrusts, Sherlock flexed his anal muscles and opened his eyes,

-‘That’s enough. I don’t like being over prepared.’

-‘You like it rough, don’t you? You have always liked the hard ways about everything.’

-‘Mmm. Easy is boring. Now fuck me if you please.’

Sherlock never says ‘please', showed his eagerness even if hiding it with mocking tone.

Mycroft obliged. He pulled his fingers out. He took both their penises in his hand and lubed or better, rubbed them together. He then let go and settled in position, started pushing inside slowly, both of them lost in the feeling of the other, lost into the moment entirely.

It took Mycroft couple of seconds to ebb the overwhelming sensations if by just a fraction. Then he started fucking in and out of his baby brother. Sherlock moaned with each one of them. Mycroft changed the angle a little bit and the next thrust brought a louder moan as it hit home. Thank God they were in Sherlock’s room which is on the far end from their parent’s room. Nobody could hear them if they went more vocal than this. And it seems like they very much will.

Sherlock opened his eyes on the next thrust and pulled Mycroft's head down onto him. Mycroft was anticipating a kiss but instead his baby brother whispered into his ear,

-‘Do you know how I always imagined this?’

-Mycroft could only manage a ‘Hmmnf..’

-‘I always imagined being lying down helplessly as my elder brother fucked the life out of me.’

There was no holding back after this.

Mycroft started thrusting with abandon, pulling all the way back then all the way inside in rough swift motions. He was groaning with each one and Sherlock crying out simultaneously with pleasure and pain. He had to hurt with that much force, but he was totally lost cause to even bother. He reached a hand down to touch himself but Mycroft pushed it away. He took both Sherlock’s hands and put them overhead trapping them under his own left hand. He placed his right hand under Sherlock’s left buttock and pulled it slightly upwards for even better access. Sherlock came over the next two thrusts, in long stripes between them, untouched of course. He didn’t even give any alarm and seemed to be unable to form any word or thoughts even. Mycroft fucked him with equal force through his orgasm. Then he pulled out slowly and laid down beside Sherlock watching him as he came down from his high, covered with cum and sweat. Mycroft was so lost into the mesmerizing scene, he forgot about his own yet to be attained climax. As he came to that thought and reached to touch himself, Sherlock tugged his hand. 

-‘No'  
He said in between pants.

-‘You must have had your own fantasy. Let’s fulfill it all.’

Mycroft didn’t waste time saying anything. He was so on edge to bother. It almost hurt holding himself from coming.

‘Get up. Sit down on your knees facing the wall.’

He said in a harsh voice.

Sherlock obliged instantly. Mycroft sat down behind him. Sherlock was kneeling on his knees. Mycroft bent his hips down so that Sherlock’s legs and thighs were aligned horizontally on the bed. His back in a straight line exposed to Mycroft. Mycroft closed his eyes and took a few breathes to steady himself. Then he ran his hands up and down Sherlock’s back before placing kisses onhis shoulders and below. Sherlock shivered. From the touch, from anticipation and may be slight apprehension? Mycroft positioned himself pushing Sherlock’s hips backwards onto his eager member and going all the way in one go. Sherlock cried out loudly, half surprised half from the sudden force. Mycroft put a hand just above Sherlock’s vertebra to bend his back in a more curvy way and to push deeper. He pulled his brother’s head by tugging his hair forcefully at least, if not too painfully. Then he started fucking Sherlock with all the force he could master. Sherlock was whimpering, loudly now, tugging at the bed sheet to gain some purchase. His knuckles gripped it so hard with each ramming that it turned white. His face and chest were red becoming red from the blood rushing there. Mycroft was not within himself either. He was sweating heavily; breathing became more audible with each passing second. He managed to say somehow,

-‘Tell me if this feels too much.’

-‘Please don’t stop.’

Sherlock begged in a croaked voice.

It didn’t last very long after that. Mycroft came inside Sherlock with his name on his lips.

Sherlock finally managed to let go of the sheet and gave a few tugs to reach his second orgasm with Mycroft lumping on his back, his cock still pulsing inside his baby brother.

They managed to lie down afterwards Sherlock half lying over Mycroft's chest, never bothering to clean the sticky mess between them.

Mycroft was half asleep when Sherlock whispered in a sleepy voice,

-‘My?’

-‘Hmm..’

-‘I don’t want to sleep. You will be gone tomorrow and this was the only night I have managed to have, after waiting so, so long.’

-‘I will be here again, Sherlock. I will always be there for you.’

-‘My'

-‘Hmm?’

-‘I will miss you.’

-‘I will miss you more.’

After a pause he added,

-‘And I love you, too, you know.’

With no response from the other party Mycroft looked down to his chest. Sherlock was already fully asleep.

Mycroft smiled to himself. He will say it again. There’s no rush, they have this night and many others to come only to say and to be said that to each other.


End file.
